Shadows of Hope
by KayDrew
Summary: What happened in the time after Arthur's death? With Camelot's future uncertain, new threats arise. Is this the dark hour in which Arthur must return? Set after 5X13.
1. The Aftermath

The loss of Arthur was overwhelming. Every inch of his body hurt, even the inside. Curled around his intestines and throat was the invisible hand of grief, making it impossible to scream or cry or even take in proper breaths.

_Thank you_. Those two words floated around his head. They thrummed against his eardrums and pounded against his skull. Arthur had told him thank you. He had never said that before. Merlin didn't think he deserved those words. He had been just doing his job and fulfilling his destiny. No, it should be Merlin who had done the thanking. Thanking for friendship, brotherhood, and eventual acceptance in who he was. But, he'd never get the chance to say those things. Never. The warlock ha failed.

Hearing a crunch, his head went up. He jumped from the ground. His hand was outstretched and a spell was on the tip of his tongue. With a second's notice, he could send an assailant flying. Seeing that it was Percival Merlin lowered his hand and wiped his eyes. Mutely, the warlock watched as Percival stumbling out of the forest and towards him. Ropes hung from his wrists. There was a distracted and very sad expression in his eyes. "He's dead," whispered the knight, looking around.

Not knowing Gwaine's fate, Merlin nodded. The warlock thought he meant Arthur. "Yeah," the warlock confirmed. "Arthur's dead. I…I couldn't save him. I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

The knight's brow furrowed. Shock replaced some of the sadness. He looked as if he'd been just slapped. "The King is dead," breathed Percival after several minutes of silence.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, he's dead. I sent his body off," whispered the young man. He nodded towards the island. "You didn't mean him?"

Percival shook his head slightly. "No, I didn't. It's Gwaine...he's dead," the burly knight corrected. His voice cracked a little.

Merlin felt like he would pass out or throw up or both. First he'd killed Morgana (whom he'd once called friend), then Arthur, and now Gwaine? This was too much! Taking in a shaking breath, he crouched and hung his head between his knees. Merlin did not move when Percival placed a hand on the warlock's back and rubbed it gently.

"Maybe not," whispered Merlin. Maybe he could save the rogue, even though he couldn't save Arthur. He did have magic after all. He could heal, even though his magic wasn't as in-tuned with that sort of gift.

"What are you talking about? What do you mean?" asked Percival. He sounded confused.

Merlin stood and shook his head. "You'll see. I don't have time to explain. It'll be easier to show you," replied the warlock. "Just, take me to him and promise me you won't hate me for what I'll have to do."

The knight looked worried and unnerved. "Why would I hate you? If you can save a friend, it must be a good thing, right," asked Percival.

"Perhaps, but please promise me. Keep your mind open and don't judge me until you know everything," the other man requested.

"Merlin, you're scaring me. What are you talking about," demanded the knight. His brow was furrowed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! We don't have time. Take me to him…_now_," the warlock said through gritted teeth. With each passing minute Gwaine's soul, or life force, was passing farther and farther away. That meant it would be harder to call him back.

Percival sighed. "Very well," whispered the knight. With those words, Percival led Merlin to Gwaine. They didn't say anything as they walked. Both men were too deep in thought and lost within their grief to speak.

Seeing his still form, Merlin swallowed as he knelt beside him. Could the warlock do this? He didn't know. There was no color in his face. There was no peace of eternal rest either. With tender fingers, he checked Gwaine over. His gazed lingered on the bite marks. The man had been tortured. Seeing those wounds, Merlin really did throw up this time. Wiping his mouth, Merlin stared at the still Gwaine.

"He thought he'd failed Arthur," whispered Percival. "I think that's why he succumbed to the torture when Elyan didn't."

Merlin could not help agree. The warlock had sensed a broken spirit when he had neared Gwaine. While that was utterly heartbreaking to feel, it was a good sign. Gwaine could be brought back.

Placing a hand on Gwaine's chest, he chanted. Vaguely, he was aware of Percival gasping, but it didn't make Merlin stop. After he was done, he leaned back and watched the corpse before him. Merlin was shaking and sweaty. He'd put everything into this spell. Would it work? He didn't know and so he waited with baited breath.


	2. Stillness

Merlin leaned back and watched the slumped Knight in front of him. The warlock couldn't feel anything different with Gwaine and that worried the young man. Barely breathing and rocking slightly, he pressed his hands together and brought them to his lips. "Come on, come on," Merlin whispered. "Please, wake up. Please."

Nothing happened for a minute. Merlin's faith in his magic was wavering. Another two minutes passed and still Gwaine was unnervingly silent. The despair of losing his friends had returned with vengeance and he felt his beliefs crumbling. Then, five more minutes had ticked by and there was no change. Gwaine was dead.

An inhumane cry ripped from Merlin's throat. "It's not fair," growled the warlock to no one in particular; he had forgotten Percival was even there. "Everyone I am around dies! I am cursed. I am a monster."

For the briefest of moments, he wished Arthur hadn't gone for the mortaeus flower. More people would be alive if he hadn't gotten the antidote. Morgana would not have turned dark. Camelot could have flourished without him. Perhaps Albion would have been created – it sure hadn't been with him here and at Arthur's side.

"You said you could help him, _sorcerer_," snarled Percival as he drew his sword and pressed the blade against Merlin's neck.

The warlock looked up at Percival. He saw absolute hatred and anger in his squinted eyes. "I thought I could," whispered Merlin. "I am sorry. I am so sorry. Are you going to kill me?"

"You were wrong," spat Percival. His hand didn't waver. "Why?"

Merlin shrugged. "I thought I was getting better with healing magic. I guess I was wrong," mumbled the warlock. His voice was broken and shook.

"No, why did you lie?" asked the burly knight.

"Why do you think? I would've been killed! Look how you reacted when I didn't bring him back. Why should I have told anyone," replied Merlin after he breathed out slowly. "I have only used magic for good. I only used it to protect Camelot and to protect Arthur. It was my destiny to protect Arthur. He was to be the once and future King and the one to unite the five kingdoms to create Albion. I guess it's not going to happen now."

Merlin's eyes drifted downwards as his lips fell into a frown. He had never meant to cause any harm. He hated that he had had to use his gifts to hurt and even kill people (including Agravaine). Thinking about the things he had done made him sick to him stomach, even years later. Those memories kept him awake at night. It made him feel anger towards himself as well as created some self-hatred and loathing.

Usually, he was good at repressing most of those feelings. Merlin had learned how not to dwell on those events and emotions, most of the time. It was futile to focus on them anyway. However, sometimes those emotions were too strong to ignore. This was a time when that was the case.

Percival removed the sword, which made Merlin glance up. The knight had sheathed his sword and had planted his fists on his hips. "You said that you used your magic to protect Camelot," began the man. "How can I believe you? Cenred's use of magic destroyed my family."

Merlin shrugged again. He didn't have a brilliant answer. He did have an response though. "Just think back on all of the times when things were not in our favor and Camelot won. It was because of me," mumbled the warlock.

The knight didn't say anything. He thought about the miraculous events that had happened in his life since becoming a knight for Camelot. "Were you the warlock on the mountain that blew the Saxons back," asked Percival.

Merlin nodded his head. "I was. It was me," was the only thing the warlock could squeak out. Before he could say anything else, Percival had scooped him into a hug.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, Merlin," the knight whispered in his ear. "Can you forgive me? Please?"

"For what," Merlin asked as Percival released the dark-haired warlock. He gave the knight a slight smile to show him that he was joking and had indeed forgiven Percival. That grin fell though as he looked over at Gwaine.

With a heavy heart, Merlin sat down. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Things were a mess. Most of the original knights were dead. Camelot had no king. How could they pick up the pieces? At this moment, Merlin was all too aware of his failed destiny and his immortality and how alone he really was.

There was a slight moan in front of Merlin. His head jerked up and he stared at the body of Gwaine. With wide eyes, the warlock stood. There was another movement – a finger jerked and Gwaine's chest moved. The rogue knight was alive.


	3. Blazes

Tears sprang into Merlin's eyes as he laughed with relief. It had worked! His magic had worked! He'd healed Gwaine. Wiping the tears that had fallen down his pale, dirty cheeks, he looked over at Percival.

The knight had a large grin on his face. Tears shined in his eyes, but they didn't fall. "You did good. Thank you." whispered the burly knight as he sat down on a fallen log. His gaze turned from the warlock to the unconscious, but very alive knight.

"You don't need to thank me," said Merlin as he checked Gwaine's pulse, heart rate, and breathing. Everything seemed to be working perfectly. Satisfied, he began to examine the rogue knight's torso, head, arms, and legs. Other than a couple of healing bites on Gwaine's neck and hands, he was fine.

"When do you think he will wake," asked Percival. The burly knight leaned forward and pressed his hands together in apprehension.

Merlin cocked his head and looked over at his friend. "I don't..." the warlock began, but was stopped by a moan. He jerked his head so that he was looking at the rogue knight. Merlin didn't know what he'd do.

Gwaine's fingers twitched first and then he shifted his whole body. Finally, he his yields flutter open and looked around. Confusion was in his eyes and a frown was on his face. "What happened?" he asked. His voice was craggy.

"You were tortured by Morgana and Merlin brought you back," Percival explained.

The Knight's eyes widen in horror. "You shouldn't have! I...I failed Arthur. I don't deserve life," exclaimed Gwaine with impact. "I told Morgana where he was. I failed."

"No, Gwaine, you didn't fail. Arthur is dead, but not because of you. It's my fault. I wasn't quick enough to get him to Avalon," Merlin admitted.

"Arthur's dead," Gwaine asked in shock.

"And so is Morgana. I killed her," replied Merlin with a nod of the head.

Gwaine for once was speechless. He opened and closed his mouthed several times. Finally, he settled on shaking his head. "We need to go tell the Queen," was all e rogue could say.

"Indeed," Percival agreed as he stood. "Can you walk?"

"A little bought of death and rebirth won't hinder my legs," Gwaine said. He also got to his feet, but let Percival support him. Before starting out, he stared at Merlin. "You have magic..."

"I was born with it," the warlock replied in an almost automatic tone. "You going to have me hanged?"

"What? No! No," stammered Gwaine. "It all makes sense now. We've been in some tight situations and yet we won. You survived the dorocha attack when no mortal man has ever done it. You were the old man weren't you? The one on the mountain?"

Merlin nodded. He didn't feel like talking, but Merlin would confirm the questions asked by nodding, it was the least he could do. All Merlin wanted was to tell Gwen and then go to Gaius's chambers to sleep or cry.

"Something was wrong with your magic. It's why we went to the Valley of the Fallen Kings and to that cave," Gwaine said as they started out for Camelot.

"You could say that, yes. Can we not talk? I just...I just don't feel like it," Merlin stammered. The warlock wanted to say he had just lost his best friend, but didn't have the energy. Seeing Percival and Gwaine nod, Merlin was relieved.

The small group walked in silence for hours on end. They only stopped when they smelled smoke. When a flaming arrow was headed towards them, they scurry to the clearing. Again, they stop. Flaming arrows are flying through the air and landing all over the place. With the fire blazing all around and Camelot in flames, the knights fight the blatantly outnumbered battle.

Not giving a second thought, Gwaine and Percival draw their swords and charge forward. Merlin sticks close to them, but skids to a stop when he sees what part of the castle is up in smoke. "No!" he screamed as he watched the physicians quarters burn. "No! Gaius!"

Author's note: Please, don't hate me! This is a pivotal moment of the story. It's going to lead to big things. This had to happen.


	4. A Mighty Battle

His world was shattered. The warlock had nothing left. Arthur was dead. His home was destroyed. Gaius was dead. He had failed in fulfilling his destiny. That was just in the last day. Within the last five years, The warlock had lost his friends, his father, his one true love, and his innocence.

Yes, Merlin's world was shattered. The pain of all the loss and grief was overwhelming. It was worse than the moments. His emotions constricted his throat like a hand squeezing from the inside out. His stomach felt sickeningly heavy, as if someone had poured pebbles down his throat. Merlin's chest didn't even want to expand and constrict properly - it was as if he were wrapped in chains.

Gwaine seemed to notice Merlin's all encompassing grief. His brow was furrowed and he'd planted a hand on the warlock's shaking shoulder. "Mate, we need you. You have the skills to defeat these fire throwing blockheads. Use it. For Arthur," the knight encouraged with a nod of his head.

Merlin nodded as he clenched his jaw. "I can't fight them all," The warlock said.

"Dot worry. We've got your back...well front," Gwaine said. With a roar worthy of a battle cry, Gwaine raced forward with Percival keeping up with him and Merlin hanging behind the two.

His hand was outstretched and his eyes constantly glowed. With a look and flick of the wrist the enemy was sent flying. Merlin didn't have to think about what he was doing; the warlock just did it. It was old habit, Merlin had had to protect Arthur so many times in the past by using this skill.

Hearing a gasp, Merlin lowered his hand. Gwaine and Percival turn after beheading one of the enemies. With flaming arrows falling all around, the four men stood there staring at each other.

"You have magic," Leon said. "And you never told anyone."

"Yes, I have magic. I was born with it. Yes, I lied. What else was I supposed to do? I'm considered the most powerful being to ever grace this world and it was my duty to keep Arthur safe. But, that does not matter. What matters is to protect Camelot and protect the Queen," Merlin replied. His tone was curt and his gaze was defiant.

"Who are these villains," asked Gwaine. "Where do they come from?"

"Vikings from the West," replied Leon, "and they took Guinevere. Where's Arthur?"

"He's dead," Merlin muttered as the defiance changed to sadness.

Leon bowed his head and breathed out. He let himself grieve for a moment. Then, the knight raised his head and looked at the three other men before him. "We have to fight. We will win and we will get our Queen back. Even if it is the last thing we do. Today we fight for juctice and honor and all the things Camelot stands for," the man proclaimed.

With a nod from Gwaine, Merlin, and Percival, the four of them head out to join the other knights of Camelot. The men in red were dwindling, Merlin noticed. If something drastic didn't happen fast, Camelot would fall. Shouting about hidden treasure, Merlin headed away from the falling city with the Vikings hot on his trail. Things were going to get interesting.


	5. Dangers

The warlock didn't know how long or how far he ran. It felt like a week had gone by, but in reality a mere 6 hours had passed since Arthur's death and Viking attack. The warlock had not stopped and neither had the Vikings, who were also being trailed by Camelot.

Anger at the enemies boiled in his veins as he thought of his mentor burning in their home. How dare they have the galll to attack roght then? How dare those brutes take the Queen? Sickening grief washed over him again. It made him stop for a moment. The notion that he'd never see Gaius or Arthur again filled his mimd. Merlin let out an anguished scream. His head went back as his eyes closed. The muscles in his neck bulged. He even felt a rip in his throat from the strain. Merlin felt his magic react. There was a crack and a whole tree fell.

Lowering his head and opening his eyes, Merlin noticed that he'd blocked the path of the knights and Vikings that were in hot pursuit. He also wryly noted that some of the horses reared and knocked their riders off. The warlock didn't halt for long. He just kept running.

As he ran, a few Vikings caught up to him, although the men stayed behind the waelock. Probably aware of his magic, they probably thought he'd make a good prize or slave. He tried to ignore them. Merlin also tired to shake them off. But, he had no luck doing either. Haring the whirl of an arrow, Erlin glanced over his shoulder. Before Merlin could deflect the arrow, it imbedded itself into his thigh.

Witha scream of pain, Merlin fell to his knees. Seeing the Vikings ready their bows, meaning, he was about to be shot again, Merlin raised his hand and sent them flying.

Not wanting to waste time, Merlin scampered to his feet. Preparing to continue at the same pace, he took a step or tried to. His leg kept giving out and any pressure he put on it made him wince. It also made him want to scream, but Merlin didn't due to the fact his throat was raw.

When he didn't think he could make it anymore, Merlin collapsed in the mouth of a cave – his father's cave in fact. Another two hours had passed and he had made it surprisingly far (far enough to escape from thee Vikings). Merlin didn't know how hed get home or even if he would go back home. Right now, Merlin was too sad and he hurt too much to think about anything. The warlock found that he was exhausted to boot - eight hours of running, bloodloss, using magic, and amped up on adreleline wass draining. He pressed his back and head against the cool stone, his chest heaving as tears fell down his colorless face.

Sitting there, he looked out the mouth of the cave. He looked at the blood trail that led right to him. It was both a godsend and a curse. If a knight of Camelot found him, he'd be fine, but if the enemy saw the blood, Merlin would be dead. As he tried to figure out whether or not to make it magically disappear, Merlin passed out.


	6. Darkness Cometh

By the time Merlin stirred, darkness had lomg fallen on the forest surrounding the cave. Blinking a few times, the warlock lifted his head and stared out the mouth of the cave. It was dark, very dark, but he could pick out the faint outlines of storm clouds that shielded the moon from the earth. It was going to storm soon, Merlin realized. The clouds weren't the only hints to rain, the all-encompassing silence and stillness of the air we're other tell-tale signs to an impressive storm.

Sitting there, Merlin tried to think up a plan. It was hard, very hard; his head felt heavy and his brain was muddled. However, Merlin managed to come up with something. He'd go deeper into the cave until morning or when the rain passed, then, he would attempt to get to the closest village. The warlock didn't think he could make it back to Camelot in he condition he was in. He could hardly walk, after all.

With a hand pressed against the stone, he eased himself upwards. Wavering on the spot, Merlin gasped as he put some weight on his injured leg. Thankfully, Merlin was alone and all the Vikings had had apparently given up their hunt for him, because the sound he had just made surely would've gotten him killed. This wasn't going to be easy, not only did he have much use of his leg, but he also was quite dizzy from the blood loss.

With ginger movements, the warlock headed away from the caves's mouth. He had one hand resting on the stone wall for support and another wrapped around his torso in a vein attempt to hold the warmth in. It took him at least an hour to get deeper into the cave, but he finally found a spot that suited him.

Sliding down onto the ground, he stuck his injured leg straight out in front of him and bent the unharmed leg. Closing his eyes, he breathed in an out. That little bit of movement had left him exhausted. Breathing out , he opened his eyes and saw a fire-pit, with wood within it, before him. "Forbearnan," whispered Merlin as he held his hand out to the twigs. With eyes flashing, the wood begins to burn. At least he was having a little luck.

Now, with the fire going, the warlock could better examine himself. First thing was first, take out the arrow. This was going to hurt. Wrapping a hand around the shaft, Merlin yanked. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. That fact made him frown. Examining the stick in his hand, he noted that there was no arrow head attached to the part he was holding. As he fingered the stick, he felt not only his blood, but softened wax. The Vikings had made it so the arrowheads detatched from the shaft.

Throwing it aside, Merlin leaned his head against the stone. The coolness felt good on the back of his head. Turning his cheek, the warlock sighed, closed his eyes, and relished in how refreshing it felt. After a moment, he opened his lids again. He needed to treat, or at least wrap, his thigh and stop the bleeding.

Letting his hand hover the leg, he whispered a healing spell. It didn't work. He tried a second and a third and a fourth, but those did not work either. Giving up on the futile attempts to heal himself, he settled on wrapping his thigh. Ripping the hem of his tunic, he wrapped the strip of frayed cloth around the blood-soaked pant and wound. Tying it securely, Merlin wiped his brow.

As he moved his hand away, he frowned yet again. His wrist was wet with sweat. Placing a hand on his brow, he withdrew it quickly. The situation had gone from bad to worse - Merlin was wounded, he was alone with no medical supplies on him, and the wound had apparently gotten infected, which was causing a fever to burn within his thin and expended body.

Dizzy as well as debilitated with weariness and sadness, Merlin slid further down the wall so he was prone on the dirt floor. His eyesight was going fuzzy and his head was swimming. Just as unconsciousness was about to take him, he saw a figure enter the cave. That someone called, "Merlin." But, he didn't answer. He couldn't. The warlock was too tired and no part of him seemed to want to work properly, not even his lips. Thus, instead of fighting it, he succumbed again to the darkness.


	7. Real?

Thunder rumbled through the forest, encircling the trees and dancing along the ground until it seemed to enter the cave. With the howling wind, drips of rain blew into the cave, but Merlin was mostly shielded from the weather.

Sluggishly, the warlock forced his eyes open. His head swam, even though Merlin was lying down. His feverish and glassy eyes saw everything in double, which made him feel sick to him stomach.

Burning up, but still shivering, Merlin wrapped his sweaty arms around his torso to try to calm the violent shakes. It didn't help much. The protective movement sent the chilling quivers up to his teeth so they clashed and clanked together in quite the violent manner.

The noise seemed to alert his companion. "Merlin," said the man in a worried voice. "Thank goodness, you're awake. You scared me. Your fever's been high, still is." The person brushed a water-soaked cloth along Merlin's brow.

Merlin frowned as he tried to listen to the talker. The voice sounded familiar. "Leon," said the warlock as he stared at the knight. "I never blamed you..."

"What?" asked the confused man. "What are you talking about?"

"When you found the bracelet, I knew you were just doing your job," Merlin continued as if he hadn't heard the other man speak.

"Don't mention it," said Leon, but it wasn't the knight, it was his mother. "Don't worry your head, Merlin. You need to rest."

"Mum," the warlock whimpered. "How did you find me?"

"That's not important. Just relax," Hunith said, as she stood and went deeper into the cave. When she returned, she was a he and the young man held a bowl of willow bark tea.

Seeing Will, Merlin screamed. He bolted upright and backed away. "You're dead! You're dead! Lave me," panted Merlin. His feverish blue eyes were wide and frightened.

"I'm here to help. Here, drink this. It will get your fever down," Will said as he pressed the cup to Merlin's lips.

"I should have fessed up to the whirlwind. I'm sorry you felt the need to take the blame," the warlock said after swallowing the liquid.

"Lay down. You really do need to rest, mate," Gwaine said.

Merlin frowned. "Where is Will? And why aren't you in Camelot? You're needed there," asked the very ill young man.

"You needed me. You need me. You would have died," Gwaine said in an uncharacteristically authoritative voice.

"You're death was my fault. I'm sorry. I knew something was weird about Eira and her story. I just didn't know what or that it would lead to what it did. Can you forgive me," whimpered Merlin.

"There is nothing to forgive. You really should rest. You'll heal faster," said Gwaine. Before Merlin's very eyes, Gwaine changed to Freya.

"This is weird," muttered Merlin as the Druid dabbed his forehead and neck. "It's good to see you again. I am happy."

"And I too," said Freya, sitting down on the rock near Merlin.

"I wish I could have taken Arthur's bolt for you. You would have lived then and we could have been together, forever," whispered Merlin with a dazed smile on his face.

"It was not your time. It's not your time now," Freya replied, but it wasn't the woman, it was Balinor. "You need to better. You are needed. Do you understand me? You're needed."

Merlin nodded and sighed. "Would you have lived with me, father," he asked. "Would you have already accepted me into your life?"

"I already had," Balinor said, but again it wasn't him. It was Percival. "Who couldn't accept you?"

"Lots of people couldn't. Morgana, for one. I poisoned her. I didn't want to. It was the only way. She was the curse. Morgause cursed her so everyone fell asleep when they were near her," Merlin sobbed. His whole body shook with his tears. After five long minutes of crying, he stopped and opened his eyes. Before him was Lancelot.

"I missed you. I wish I had gone through the veil. You didn't deserve death or being turned into a shade and then Gwen wouldn't have been banished. I was ready. To sacrifice myself," the warlock whispered.

"What was done is done," sighed Lancelot in a very elderly voice.

"Gaius? Where did Lancelot go," asked Merlin. "I thought you were dead. I saw our home burn."

"You are thinking too much about things. We will deal with everything later. You really need to sleep. That fever of yours will break once you heal," Gaius said.

"Okay. Okay. One thing first, how did I make that blue orb after the poisoning all those years ago? I have wondered that for as long as it happened. I'd like to know before I die."

"You're not going to die. I won't let it. You're my friend and I can't lose you," exclaimed the king, whom Gaius had turned into, as he sprang from his seat.

"Arthur," whispered Merlin, but he got no response. His voice was so hushed and hoarse that it was more like the warlock mouthed the words. With heavy eyelids, Merlin watched as his sight went hazy and Arthur was out of sight. Now, he was apparently alone again, but he was too exhausted to care.

Author's note: this went differently then I had planned, but I like the outcome. Thanks to Numb3rsfan for the idea!


	8. Who It Is

Arthur felt absolutely sick to his stomach as his stumbled out of the cave with the water skins he had found. He couldn't believe what Merlin had unwittingly told him in his fevered state. The young man had gone through so much. He had suffered so much, and, yet, Arthur had been completely unaware of it. Merlin was right, he was a prat.

Some of the news was disconcerting and very depressing. Many things had transpired since his death and resurrection. He'd lost a dear friend, Gaius, and loyal knight, Gwaine. There were things from the past that confused him. Why had Merlin poisoned Morgana and when did Arthur kill a girl?

Other things amazed him. The fact the warlock had created a blue light while on the brink of death seemed outrageous, but the King believed him. Merlin really had used his magic for him. Arthur suspected he used it for more - for the love and good of Camelot.

Sliding in the mud, Arthur stopped at the water's edge and filled it. He was soaked from the rain, but the King did not care. The man wanted to get these water skins filled as fast as possible so that he could get back to Merlin. Arthur didn't want to leave Merlin alone, especially in the state he was in (the warlock could hurt himself).

Capping the skins, Arthur headed back to the caves. His mind was reeling with all of the information he'd heard from the ill Merlin. The fact he'd been brought back to life was also unsettling. However, Arthur knew it was the right thing to have happened, if only for the fact Merlin needed him right now. However, the King suspected more was brewing. The woman who sent him back had said, "The future of Albion is at stake. These are tumultuous times in which you are needed. It is time to go back." And back he'd gone, only to find a trail of blood that led to his manservant.

Arthur didn't know how long he'd been gone. Time had not passed in Avalon. But, he didn't think it was long - Merlin looked the same, although sick and wounded. Sighing, Arthur pushed the thoughts aside. He'd find out the answer sooner rather than later he was sure.

Going into the cave, Arthur went over to Merlin, who seemed to be hallucinating Gwen. "I'm sorry. I am sorry. I just wanted to help your father," muttered Merlin.

Kneeling beside Merlin, Arthur poured some of the water into a bowl and dipped a cloth in it. Carefully folding the fabric, the King pressed it against Merlin's brow. "Hush, Merlin, it's all right. Do not trouble yourself," whispered the king as he stood and grabbed the jar marked willow bark. Sprinkling a bit in water, he helped Merlin drink it and then, he examined Merlin's leg.

The arrow had been deep and removing it had been tricky. All he had had was a paring knife, which worked well enough to remove the tip. Then, he'd roughly sewed it up. The stiches were close together, but it was not neat and would probably leave a scar. Arthur was neither a surgeon nor a seamstress. Satisfied with how it looked, the king rewrapped the leg.

Not having another to do, Arthur leaned against a stone wall and stared at Merlin. The warlock had grown quiet. His face looked more relaxed. The sweat was drying and Arthur couldn't help but hope the high fever was breaking. Merlin was even breathing better. It seemed he had fallen asleep, which is what Arthur also did.

He was worked a time later by a quiet voice. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around. His gaze settled on Merlin, who stared bug-eyed at the King. "Arthur, you're alive," whispered the warlock.

Author's note: Well, what do you think? Were you expecting that? Sorry for switching POV's. I needed to tell things from Arthur.


	9. Storytelling

Merlin watched Arthur as the newly reborn king gawked at him. The blonde-haired man's expression was easy to read. With mouth open and eyes wide, but shining, he was both shocked and saddened by Merlin. Even to The warlock's ears, Merlin sound weak and pitiful. His voice was raspy and it wavered.

"You're alive," Merlin tried again. He attempted to sound stronger and more confident. However, he didn't think it worked well. "What happened?" Merlin attempted to sit up, but his arms shook and his head swam, so he just eased back down and rested his head against the cave floor.

"I should be asking you that. Gods, Merlin, you were so sick! You had such a fever. I thought your brain would melt from the heat," Arthur said as he pressed a hand on Merlin's brow. "You still have one, but it's not as high."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. Arthur really was worried about him. That seemed a little weird and a little disconcerting, even though Arthur had fretted about him the past.

"I'll tell you what happened if you tell me why you're back so soon. Not that im unhappy to see you alive," whispered Arthur.

The King thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded. "Deal," Arthur said. He sat down facing Merlin and drew his knees up. Then, he rested his hands on his knees. "Go on."

"Well, after I sent you off, Percival found me by the lake. He told me that Gwaine had died," began Merlin in a quiet voice.

"So what you raved about during your fever was true," muttered Arthur. Merlin stared at Arthur with confusion in his still glassy eyes. "Never mind. Please, continue."

"I had Percival lead me to him and healed him with magic. At first, it didn't work and Percival nearly skewered me. But it worked. Gwaine thought he'd failed you because he told Morgana where we were after she tortured him," the warlock hurried on.

Arthur paled at the news. He actually looked like he would throw up. But, the King did not. Instead he just took in a few deep breaths.

"After that, we returned to Camelot only to discover it in flames. Men from the West were shooting flaming arrows at the city, especially towards Gaius's..." Merlin explained, but his voice broke and his face crumpled. For several minutes Merlin lay there crying. He only stopped when he was gasping for breath. "And they were fighting by word ad kidnapping people. Arthur, I'm sorry, but…but Gwen was kidnapped too."

If there was any color left in Arthur's face, it was gone. His cheek muscle tightened and throbbed as his hands clenched and unclenched in anger. "We will get her back. I will," muttered the King in sheer determination. Blinking, he looked at Merlin. "That still doesn't explain how you have a puncture wound and are out there."

"Oh, um, I told the men I knew where hidden treasure was and they followed me. But, they felt the need to shoot at me while chasing me. I had to do something to get them away from Camelot. It worked," Merlin said with a shrug.

"You're an idiot. You nearly died from blood loss and fever," grumbled Arthur "Why didn't you heal yourself?"

"I tried and it didn't work," said Merlin, "But, I don't seem to be doing a good job with this whole healing thing. How did you know what to get?"

"Whoever lived here before now had medicines they were all in labeled bins," Arthur explained. He looked around the cave as if seeing it for the first time. "Haven't we been here before?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes, we have. We came here for the Dragonlord all those years ago," the warlock whispered, suddenly sounding very sad.

"What's wrong? Don't lie to me, Merlin. There has been too much already. I am guessing you hid more than your magic... At least judging from what you muttered about earlier," Arthur pushed.

"There is. The Dragonlord was my father. He passed his magic to me. I can command dragons, too. You didn't kill the Great Dragon. I told him to leave Camelot alone. He has. He's helped me, but won't be able to anymore. He's dying," sighed Merlin. "Can we not talk about it?"

Arthur pressed his lips together. He nodded. "Yes, Merlin, we can. I will drop it, for now," replied the King. Noticing Merlin's drooping eyelids, Arthur checked Merlin's brow one more time. "Go to sleep. Now. We will talk more later."

Merlin nodded. He yawned a bit and then shifted. Soon he was sound asleep and oblivious to the world around him.


	10. Arthur's Tale

Merlin woke to the scent and sound of fish cooking over the fire. Groaning and feeling very stiff, the warlock propped himself up onto his elbows as he looked around the cave. Judging by the pale sunlight streaming into the space, it was morning and the rain storm had passed. He'd lived to see another day.

Hearing the clearing of a throat, Merlin turned his head towards the sound. Arthur was sitting on a rock. His sleeves were rolled up and he was turning the fish. "I see you're awake," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Merlin replied. "May I have some water?"

The resurrected King nodded. Leaving the fish perched on the make-shift spit Arthur grabbed a water sack and handed it to Merlin. While the warlock drank, the King felt Merlin's forehead and checked the leg wound.

"It looks like you're on the mend," Arthur commented as he checked on the cooking food. Satisfied with its doneness, he took the fish off the fire and placed them on plates that had been found in the cave. The King handed one of the plates to Merlin while he kept one for himself.

"Thanks. Did you catch them yourself," Merlin asked, taking a bite of the food. "It's good. I don't remember the last time I ate. So much happened in such a short amount of time and there was so much loss. Food was the last thing on my mind."

"Yeah," replied Arthur. "I went out before dawn and stabbed them from the lake. It wasn't too hard. Even you can do it and you were the worst servant I ever had."

The joke sounded lame and weak. Both men knew it. Things were different. Arthur knew of Merlin's magic and knew that the warlock was far from being the worst servant.

"So, what happened? I told you my story. Now, you tell me yours," Merlin asked after a long and drawn out bought of silence.

Arthur was silent for a moment as he stared at the fire. He looked deep in thought. He also looked a bit sad, which the heavy sigh the escaped his lips confirmed his woe.

"Well, after I...died...I found myself in a grand hexagon tower made of ebony. Surrounding it was a lake as well as enough land to wander about it. Carved archways were on five of its sides. On the sixth was a winding starecase that was set into the wall. Every ten feel there was a landing where there were beds or dining spaces or libraries. And the walls were covered in windows so there was no need for candles. I visited each floor, but spent a majority of my time wandering in and out the doorless archways on the ground floor. I found great peace climbing the stone steps that stopped at the water's edge," Arthur began.

"It sounds beautiful," Merlin replied.

"It was," Arthur agreed. "How long I stayed there, I do not know. But, a dark-haired woman, dressed in a gauzy white dress came out of the water and told me I had to go back. She said that many things were wrong. I was needed."

"Freya..." Merlin couldn't help but mutter. Tears pricked the warlock's eyes and his throat constricted. Looking at he king, he swallowed. "Sorry..."

"Anyway, she offered me her hand. I took it and she swam me to shore. The woman doe back in and left me wet and alone. By that time, it was also storming, Arthur continued, finishing his serving of fish. "Knowing I needed to get home, I started back. But, I saw the trail of blood and followed it. Now, here I am...alive and well. That's that."

Merlin wasn't sure what to think or say. The story seemed believable and he did not doubt Arthur for a minute. He was starting to tire and his mind was foggy. Arthur seemed to see this, thus he took the plate and pushed Merlin into a prone position. As the warlock was about to fall asleep, there was a rustle and a startled cry. However, before Merlin could see who was at the mouth of the cave, unconsciousness took him.


End file.
